


How to take life slowly (by falling in love)

by florelflowers



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: M/M, Meet-Cute, along with two boys a little too endeared, this is just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florelflowers/pseuds/florelflowers
Summary: Smitty is a pizza delivery guy, and John works at blockbuster; it only takes one night for them to fall in love





	How to take life slowly (by falling in love)

 

Smitty likes to live life randomly, through spontaneous decisions and impulsive desires to always explore, expand his knowledge while experiencing all he can, at his young age.

It mainly started when he turned sixteen and got his first job at the local library, checking in books and sitting with a boredom that couldn’t be fixed, not even by the fantasy novels he once loved to read; he quit three weeks after being hired, a choice he thought of at night, and acted on the next day, but that was okay, because only a week later he found himself dog sitting, and one month after that a lifeguard, (it’s become this routine, picking a job but never staying with it, always on the move, but it’s thrilling in this adventurous way and so he doesn’t stop, just keeps going and going).

Now at nineteen he’s slowed down a bit, but he’s been delivering pizzas for nearly four months and he’s starting to become antsy, ready to jump into the next thing and leave this behind like a soft sigh of relief, from the notion of constant roaming, that he can never be tied down. 

“You’re crazy.” Is what Ryan always tells him, in this non believing way as he huffs, when Smitty voices his frustrations of  _ still  _ being here.

“Not crazy,”  _ that’s you,  _ he thinks, not understanding how the man could work in the same place for so long, work his way up to assistant manager and walk around with a pride Smitty scoffs at, “Just...bored.” 

It’s an oversimplification but Ryan shrugs, accepting it, and Smitty goes back to tapping his feet against the stool he sits on, occasionally swiveling it until he gets dizzy and has to stop. 

What feels like hours of staring at the cracked wall and chipped paint finally comes to a halt when there’s a paper flung in front of him, and he dazedly looks up, seeing Ryan with his arms crossed and stern face staring expectantly at him, a usual occurrence.  

“If you’re so bored, here, I just finished making an order. Go deliver it, and then go home and get rest, got it?” 

The man tends to treat Smitty like everyone else, but occasionally he gets this worried look when Smitty starts talking about dreams still considered unrealistic, and he knows the other sees him as a little brother; something he hated when he first started working there, but he’s gotten used to the older man’s jokes and concerned opinions, and if anything, he thinks he’s actually going to miss Ryan, when he leaves and doesn’t look back.

He mock salutes, and stands, “You got it, boss.” 

Ryan takes everything too seriously, of course, and looks bashful when he rubs at the back of his neck, “Not the boss, Smitty.” 

He resists the urge to roll his eyes at the man’s silly wishful thinking, of one day being able to properly manage the pizza shop; Ryan claims to be a simple man, that he doesn’t ever like to ask for much, but even Smitty can see just how desperately he wants that promotion, and though he wants to yell  _ just go get it,  _ he doesn’t, instead gives a gentle pat as he moves around him, “One day, right?” 

“Right.” Ryan smiles, eyes shining at just the image alone, and Smitty forces a laugh, not being able to understand in the slightest, “One day.” 

He leaves after that, has to, really, can’t stand being in a place of familiarity for too long, and it’s with a groan of comfort when his back hits the seat in his car, and as he drives away from flashing neon lights that do a horrible job of attracting customers, and as the wind from the open window runs gentle fingers across his face, whispering promises of all the places he’ll see, maybe even the people he’ll meet; he’s not opposed to that, either, bumping into someone along the way and falling in love, but it’s something he treads with caution.

Life is strange for Smitty, with all the jobs he’s had, experiences already lived through, but love is still new, that one phenomenon he has yet to explore. He’s young, though, and he knows he has all the time in the world to meet someone worth wanting to stay still for, but that doesn’t stop the thoughts at night that wish for just one person, who could understand him and he them, and their love would be cosmic in the sense of unrelenting, that not even the universe could hold them back in a place not able to restrain the two lovers. 

Or maybe he’s thinking too much into something that doesn’t require thought; love is supposed to be natural, or so he’s read, and he stops thinking about it, doesn’t want to jinx something before it has a chance to happen. 

It’s a fairly short drive, just about half an hour, but when he pulls up to the place he can’t help but let out a snort, at the bright yellow sign that threatens to blind him; he shakes his head, as he shuffles out, “Blockbuster? What the fuck?” 

Briefly he remembers his childhood, of the happiness he felt when his family pulled up to the popular chain, and he would run inside, in a hurry to pick the movie he wanted for movie night. Those memories are filled with nothing but fond for the familiar place, and so he’s probably a little more chipper when he enters the building, immediately getting hit with the smell of stale popcorn, and oddly enough, or maybe not, vomit. 

The man sitting at the counter must see how Smitty reacts to the horrid smell, because he laughs, and leans further back in the chair that looks like it’s ready to fall from under him, with how far back he’s leaning, just so his legs will be propped on the unusually high countertop littered with movies and stained paperwork. 

“Vomit, right?” The guy asks, though his eyes say Smitty doesn’t even have to reply when the answer is clear. 

He still does though, just to start a conversation; he hates awkward encounters more than anything, and though this man looks like the type to stray away from pointless conversations, Smitty’s feeling lucky in that he’ll be an exception. 

“Does it always smell like that?” 

The other hums, glancing down to pick at the bright nail polish adorning his fingers; Smitty’s just now noticing them, and though he’s never seen another guy with pink nails, his lips lift up in a smile with a mix of both amazement and wonder.

“That depends on if that snob of a kid comes in.” At Smitty’s raised eyebrow, he leans forward, propping himself on his elbows in a way that suggests he’s about to say something secretive, though Smitty gets the feeling he probably complains about this to anyone willing to listen. 

“The little brat looks like he’s six, right, but everytime he comes here, he eats a box of m&ms before his equally snob of a mom buys them, and then proceeds to throw up only a minute after. Who the fuck does that?” 

“Someone who really loves m&ms, who else?” He laughs at the eye roll he gets in return, followed by an afronted look when the other suddenly pops up in his seat, suddenly recalling something. 

“But they’re not even the good m&ms, they’re the fucking peanut one’s! Who eats peanut m&ms and actually enjoys it? Fucked up people, that’s who.” 

Smitty realizes he’s still carrying the pizza box, but he maneuvers it under his arm, to place a hand on his hip at the absurd statement.

“I’m starting to think you were dropped as a baby, no offense, well actually, full offense because fuck you, peanut m&ms are the only good m&ms, and whoever told you otherwise were clearly just trying to fuck with you.”

“Me!” The other yells, waving his arms around in surprise. The hair that looks like it hasn’t been touched in months, is weirdly pretty, when it falls in the guys face from all his movements, and Smitty finds himself grinning, “I’m the one who told myself they’re shitty, because it’s true!” 

“Wait!” He suddenly yells, somehow leaning even closer, as if he’s physically trying to reach Smitty, to maybe grab his shoulders and shake him vigorously, “Don’t tell me you’re also one of those people who likes pineapple on pizza.” 

It’s too easy to get the other riled up, and Smitty probably enjoys the reactions from the stranger more than he should. 

“Well, I’m not opposed to it.” 

He snickers when the other slumps, groaning in defeat, “Fuck off. I can’t talk to someone who would happily ruin perfect pizza by putting  _ pineapples on it.”  _

“Hey,” Smitty points, lips twitching when the guy dejectedly looks at him again, though there’s a trace of a smile on his lips that Smitty can’t help but reciprocate, “I’m the one with the pizza here. If you’re too much of an asshole I’ll take this out back and give it to the stray cat I saw.” 

The other smiles smugly, as he finally leans against his chair again, “Go for it. Starving cats eating good ass pizza never hurt anyone.” 

“Are you sure? Maybe it has and you’re only adding to the list because you refuse to admit pineapple on pizza can be decent.”

“People can hurt then.”

“What if I told you I put pineapples on here in case I ran into someone like you?” 

“I’d say I’m suing you for trying to poison me.” 

The smile on his face is starting to hurt from how wide it is, but it’s impossible to not grin at such a ridiculous banter, and because the guy looks like he’s about to laugh at any second; Smitty thinks it’s the best image he’s ever seen.  

“Anyways,” Smitty shakes his head, smile turning sad at the thought that he has to leave now, and finally places the box down, arm sighing in relief when he lowers it, “You going to pay me for this or are we just going to argue all night?” 

It’s meant to be a joke, but the guy actually raises his eyebrows, and perks up, “Is that an option? Because it is just me working tonight, and instead of talking to the guys who refuse to make eye contact because of the movies they’re returning so late, if you catch my flow, you could stay and I can keep complaining about annoying kids and their obnoxious parents who don’t know how to put shit back where it belongs?” 

It takes Smitty completely off guard, and he thinks about what he was going to do after, which was most likely stay up watching Netflix before magically falling asleep; it’s a sad image, but then the other image that shines bright, of staying here with a guy he’s just met but has made him laugh and smile more than his old friends could, he finds that image appears nice, and he wants it, with a need he’s a little unsure about, but decides he doesn’t mind going after it. 

“Only if I get to talk about the customers that have actually paid me in pennies, or thrown the pizza at me because there wasn’t enough cheese.” 

“No way,” The guy breathes, look of surprise in his eyes, “Has that actually happened? Did you do anything back?” 

“I took a shit on the dude’s lawn.” 

“Fuck off.” At Smitty’s serious face, his smile falls, and he bursts out laughing, the sound making Smitty join only seconds after. “Did you really?”

“No, I was just joking. I did take a piss on his bushes though, if that’s just as good.”

“Definitely just as good.” He smiles, and Smitty gets the feeling that this night is going to be the most fun he’s had in awhile, given how they have yet to stop smiling, and his laughter is just right under the surface, ready to spill out.

And he’s right of course; they somehow find themselves sitting on the floor behind the counter, the nearly empty box of pizza between them, as they talk about everything from their names, to which the guy, or John, as he helpfully stated, thinks his is the best name ever. 

_ “So your actual name is Smitty? I think that’s the coolest name I’ve heard.”  _

_ “Compared to John, the most basic name, I’d say yeah, it is.”  _

The comment gets him shoved, but there’s no animosity behind it, only shining eyes and a set of lips almost always lifted in a smirk. They talk about other things too, like their childhood and the things they got up to, or the future, even, and where they see themselves. 

_ “I want to go to Italy,”  _ John says after a while, as he lays on his back and stares up at Smitty with these far away eyes,  _ “They have good pizza there, right?”  _

Smitty had laughed, a little too endeared by a person he’s just met,  _ “That’s it? You’d travel all that way just for good pizza?”  _

The boots he had complimented earlier in the night now kick at his leg, and he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance, as he shoves them away,  _ “I’d travel to the fucking moon if it meant having pizza so good my taste buds die from pleasure overload.” _

John’s a bit weird, Smitty learns through the night, with the jokes he says and the thoughts he has, but it’s refreshing, and he finds himself just  _ listening  _ for the most part, letting John talk while he just admires the person he is, with pink nail polish and boots he says always gets him questions. 

He voices this when John’s on a tangent, talking about a vape he tried that he’s sure was made by the heavens, “You’re a bit weird, you know that?” 

John pauses, but doesn’t look the least bit bothered, instead shrugs with a crooked smile, “That’s good though, right? Normally those who get called weird are the one’s confident about who they are.” 

Smitty can only hum at that, finding the added insult to be words of advice, and goes back to eating the peanut m&ms John had begrudgingly let him take.

The talking continues after that, though sometimes they have their moment of silences, where they just listen to the cars driving so late at night, or stare up at the molded ceiling, when Smitty gets tired of sitting and lays beside John, where he admits he likes the warmth the other lets off, and the closeness of being next to someone who has yet to make him not smile. 

“Hey,” John suddenly says, flinging his hand to hit Smitty in the face, who only huffs, “What if I go down to where you work, next week? And as a token of kindness for letting you technically  _ steal  _ those m&ms that I know you’re not going to pay for, you let me have those cheesy breadsticks for free? Sounds great, doesn’t it?” 

The image of Ryan knowing he would give out free food to someone he’s just met, is hilarious in more ways than one, but he sighs, flicking at the hand still comfortably laying on his face. 

“It sounds like you’re only using me for food.” He snickers when John goes to retort, and waves him off, “I’m kidding, shut up. I’d say that sounds like a good time, but I won’t be working there by next week. I saw a flyer looking for fishermen a couple towns over.” 

“What?” John laughs, sitting up on his elbows to stare incredulously at him, “Why the hell would you want to be a fisherman?” 

“No reason.” Smitty shrugs, but at John’s expectant gaze, silently demanding a real answer, he sighs, “It’s just this thing I do, like not staying at a job for very long, because I find other random, or stranger one’s. It probably doesn’t make sense, but I like doing it, and besides I end up learning new things I probably would’ve never sought out learning myself otherwise.” 

John stares at him for long while, eyes calculating, assessing him in a way that Smitty almost squirms at, but then the goofy smile lights up his face again, and he settles back down, “You’re a weird one, Smit.” 

A rush of air passes through his lips, but he masks it as a laugh, a silent relief that the other didn’t find that fact strange enough to stop talking to him. 

He finds John’s arm, and gives a soft pinch, both laughing when John squawks and swats at it, “But,” Smitty says, glancing over, seeing John already staring, “Being weird is good, remember?” 

“You can’t use someone else’s words against them, there’s a rule about that.” 

“Yeah? I don’t remember ever hearing about this apparent ‘rule’.” 

“Well then clearly these ‘learning jobs’ are doing nothing because that’s a well known fact.”

“Dick.” Smitty laughs, the sound growing louder when John pinches his side, effectively tickling Smitty and making him squirm away. 

“Asshole.” 

Their snickers die down a bit, and they settle back into a comfortable silence, both basking in the feeling of contentment just from being near one another. It’s a sort of feeling Smitty has never felt, but it’s intoxicating, and he doesn’t ever want it to leave, wants to wrap himself in this notion of truly feeling like himself around John, the guy who was so unsuspecting but lively, bringing with him a whirlwind of emotions Smitty is just now learning about. 

“You know,” John breaks the silence, but his eyes are trained on a stain up above, when Smitty looks over at him, “This just means I’ll have to visit you at some fucking fishing port, and I’ll probably smell like the ocean for a week, no thanks to you.” 

Smitty doesn’t even have to ask about those implications, not when the underlying message is so loud and vibrant, knocking his breath away. It takes everything in him not to jump up and yell from excitement, how a guy he yearns to be around more,  _ wants  _ to see him, too. 

He settles on grinning, the expression somehow growing wider, when John meets his eyes and his own grin is equally thrilled, seeing Smitty’s face approving of all what he’s just said. 

“What if I make it up to you with those cheesy breadsticks? I happen to be pretty close with the manager.” Ryan flashes in his mind, though he knows the man isn’t at that position, yet, but even so he gets the feeling Ryan will gladly participate with a disapproving frown, though he’d be happy all the same, when he learns the reason behind it. 

“Smitty, that’s the best thing you’ve said all night.” 

He flings another hand at John, laughing when the other only catches his wrist, and maybe his voice is a little shakier than normal, when John simply holds onto it, a firm grasp but still soft, letting Smitty pull back if he wanted; he doesn’t. 

“So you are just using me for food! I should’ve known.” 

Smitty’s finding it difficult to think, when John’s thumb caresses the inside of his wrist with the softest touch he’s ever felt, and John has to know all of what he’s doing to Smitty, because he flashes him a grin, gives a small wink that Smitty blushes at, but he sticks his tongue out in a halfhearted retaliation. 

“Don’t act like you’re not going to use me for your sick obsession with peanut m&ms.” 

“I’m not obsessed, they’re cleary just the better m&ms and one day your head will finally come out of your ass so you can understand what I mean.” 

“Hey, you mind your business. My head and ass are in love and you won’t seperate them.” 

“Fuck off.” Smitty laughs, wiggling his fingers in John’s face. 

“Only if you fuck off with me.” 

It’s silent for a couple beats, but then Smitty has to laugh, bringing his other hand up to clamp down on his mouth, but it’s useless when John huffs, shaking his head with this embarrassed look on his face. 

“God, that was fucking lame. I meant to say it smoother, but-hey it’s not that funny you asshole.” 

“Only if you fuck off with me.” Smitty mocks, snickering when John raises his free hand to flick him off. 

“Fuck you, you know what I meant.” 

“I do.” Smitty smiles, huffing a last laugh, and tries to convey how genuine he is, when he says, “And yes, John, I’ll gladly go fuck off with you.” 

John still pretends to be annoyed, by not saying anything, but the ghost of a smile tracing his lips, and the way he entwines their fingers together speaks louder than any words could, and Smitty can’t help but smile as he thinks about the night, about meeting someone who equally took his breath away and gave him life, at a blockbuster with the smell of vomit still surrounding them, but Smitty’s life is a little random like that, and so he squeezes the hand in his, deciding he actually wouldn’t mind staying here, with John by his side, for however long the world may let them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly didn't know how to write this for the longest time, so I'm sorry if it seems rushed or sloppy. Hopefully it was still somewhat enjoyable though! :)


End file.
